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Vyle grumbled. He looked at the front page of the newspaper he held in his hands.
"Superheroes save town and possibly world," he read aloud. He was in the auto body shop, waiting for his van to get repaired. The mechanic said it was "almost totaled," which means it had a wheel and the steering wheel still intact. He grumbled again when he thought of WHO wrecked the van: Dimitri Fuzzkold. Dimitri was "Russian." Vyle wasn't quite sure what that meant, but he was sure it had something to do with driving poorly.
"Quite poorly," Vyle muttered to himself.
The mechanic walked over to Vyle, rubbing his hands with a cloth. Vyle noticed that that was the ONLY thing the man seemed capable of doing.
"Whelp," began the mechanic, "yer van's fixed. I reckon you shouldn't drive the wrong way on a one-way street, y'hear?" Vyle simply nodded grimly and hopped off the chair he was sitting on. Vyle, the man saw, was quite short. Quite short indeed.
Vyle was also evil. He was an evil genius. A short evil genius, but an evil genius nonetheless. His hair was fiery red, much like his attitude. He wore an orange jumpsuit with red shoulderpads and a green cape. The jumpsuit looked like a suit of armor, actually. He shuffled over to the now repaired van. He smiled at its simple magnificence. It looked like an ordinary orange with dark green stripes van, except for the fact there was a giant metal head shaped like Vyle's on the roof.
He opened the door and hit a button. A little platform lowered so Vyle could climb into the seat (this is where the 'genius' part comes in, you see?). He hit another button, and the pedals extended so Vyle could reach them. At the same time, his chair raised so he could see over the windshield. The man's head unexpectedly appeared outside the window.
"Hey," he said. "That'll be $15,000." Vyle grinned evilly.
"Put it on the account of Dimitri Fuzzkold." He then promptly started the engine and drove away.
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Vyle opened the door to his apartment. The place was a mess, as usual. Trash and dirty laundry filled the room, with a spot cleared for a computer desk and a chair. Dimitri was seated at the desk, playing "Hero Zapper" on the computer. "I just got back from the shop," stated Vyle. "Ze van's fixed, zhen?" came the reply from Dimitri, who didn't even look from the screen. "Yes, the van's fixed."
Vyle sighed. The meager bit of money he had was all getting spent on the van getting fixed. He needed something. A solution. His mind quickly turned to violence, but he decided against it. Killing Dimitri would solve some of his problems, but the Russian was the one providing Vyle with money. Dimitri wasn't rich, but he somehow produced money almost from thin air. Vyle hated that. Vyle hated a lot of things.
He threw the paper on the ground in a spout of angst, which flopped open to a page he somehow missed. He looked down at an ad:
"The First Annual Evil VillianCon! Special contest: write an essay for why YOU want to take over the world and win a $10 billion grant to help!" Vyle did a double take, then his eyes widened, then bulged. His jaw hit the floor. Literally (told you he was short). As he rubbed his jaw, he yelled to Dimitri,
"Hey! Get off that game and get ready to write an essay so we can get some cash!"
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Well, while Vyle and Dimitri are off writing their essay, let me tell you a bit about where they live. That place is the wonderful land of Virtue City, in the state of Virtuoso, in the country Freedomia, on the planet Goodness! Sucks, huh? Obviously, the planet is crawling with horrible do-gooders, with 10,000 to one odds on good guys to bad guys.
Well, fast-forward a day. Vyle and Dimitri are late to the VillianCon as it kicked off. It was a hubbub of activity, with villains of all kinds roaming the hallways, and booths of all shapes and sizes lining the walls. They displayed everything from evil bases to evil torture devices to evil toasters! They even had evil kitchen sinks. It seemed like a wonderful day for evil.
Suddenly the door exploded, and the Virtue City SWAT team ran in. The villians stood there for a minute, then a sound escapes from one,
"Aw, crap!" The SWAT team quickly arrested the villains and dragged their, as one SWAT member was heard quoted,
"sorry no-good worthless dirty derrieres" to jail!
About 5 minutes later, Vyle and Dimitri walked in.
"Hmm, awful quiet for a convention." Vyle muttered to himself.
"Er, yeah," said Dimitri back. "Look'z like no-one's hear, Herr Vyle."
"That's German."
"...Crap." Vyle sighed.
"Look, let's just turn our essay in and leave. There's no point just standing around." Vyle stepped up to the box proudly displaying "Essay entries!" and put the envelope containing his essay inside.
"I hope you wrote a good essay, Dimitri..." Vyle said as they began to leave.
"Don't verry, it'z my best verk!" Dimitri winked.
"Don't ever wink again."
A few days later, Vyle looked at the oddly shiny envelope in his hand, proudly proclaiming to the world, "Essay WINNER!" Vyle ran inside the apartment, and ran in tight circles around Dimitri.
"We won we won we won we won we won!"
"Vat? Ve did? YEZ! I mean, of COURZ ve did, vat vith my incredible essay! Now, qvick, qvick, open ze envelope!" Vyle tore open the envelope, and pulled out a check and a letter. He read it aloud:
"Congratulations, Vyle Nolastname and Dimitri Fuzzkold!" Vyle took the moment to glare at Dimitri.
"Vyle NOLASTNAME?"
"Vell, I don't know vour lazt name! Sheesh." Vyle looked hard at Dimitri for a while longer, then went back to reading the letter.
"You are the winners of the First Annual Evil VillainCon Essay Contest! Your INCREDIBLE and ASTOUNDING essay ASTOUNDED and INCREDIBLUATED us! With such prominent proclamations that prominently proclamated the splendorrifous pages that contained your essay, such as 'It would be fun,' and the total awesomeness of, er, 'It would be fun!' Please accept this check for the promised $10 billion, and come to next year's VillainCon!"
"Er...what kind of villain company IS this?" Vyle said. "'Total awesomeness?' 'Splendorrifous?' 'INCREDIBLUATED?' Well, whatever, at least we have money now!" Vyle held up the check with pride. "Now we can actually start setting into motion our plans to take over the world! Mwa ha ha, ha ha ha, HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA! But first, we should get a new place."
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"This place is the leader in the future of villain business!" stated the scantily clad female villain lair salesman. "Of course, it's also the priciest."
"Of course," replied Vyle. He looked at the lair to be. It stood like a metal vampire or mad scientist's castle, a prominent display of everything cruel and evil in this sun-shiney world.
"We'll take it!" Vyle stepped inside and could hear the voices of villains past, telling him to follow in their footsteps. He breathed in deeply, smiling happily. He knew that this...THIS was his destiny.
"Argh!" groaned Dimitri. "Help me vith theez bagz, ya' vittle bugger!"
And thus the adventures of Vyle's Villains did begin...
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It was a relatively calm day in Vyle's fortress. Everything was finally moved in from the apartment. It took three months to move everything (Vyle hadn't realized the three secret closets filled with Dimitri's money before). At the moment, our lovable little anti-hero is sitting on the Lai-Z-Boi, reading "Evil's Digest." Dimitri was in front of his computer, playing "Hero Zapper." And the Wedoitfast Mailing Service (WMG) guy was in front of the door. Er, wait, what?
There was a chorus of screams and moans.
"Vat was zat?!?" yelled Dimitri.
"Oh, just the new doorbell," responded Vyle. Slowly, the gears in his mind clicked. "The doorbell!" he shouted as he sprang out of his seat. In a flash, he was at the door. Hesitantly, he opened it.
"Yeeeeees?" He asked. On the doorstep, the WMG guy was standing, but he's not really important, is he? The important thing was the thing behind him. A girl.
"I have a delivery for a 'Vyle Nolastname,'" said the mail guy.
"That would be me..." grumbled Vyle.
"Just sign here, here, here, here, initial here, and give the name of your first-born here." "Uh...I don't have a first-born." The guy blinked.
"Oh, well, just put in a name, then." Vyle shrugged and penciled in "Dimitri."
"Okay, here you go!" The man pushed the girl into the fortress, then walked away. Vyle looked her up and down.
She was beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous! She had chin-length blonde hair, green eyes, and nice, round, red lips. She was tall (of course, everyone was tall to Vyle...), and wore a red tank top that exposed her stomach, black leather pants and shoes, and black, fingerless gloves. She looked down at Vyle. There was a moment or two of silence. Then she grinned.
"UNCLE VYLE!!!" she squealed in delight. Vyle blinked in surprise.
"U...uncle?" he asked warily.
"Yeah! Don't you remember me? It's me, Ioris (pronounced EE-oh-lis)!" Vyle looked to the sky as his mind turned back time.
"Yes...yes...I remember now! But...you were smaller than I was when I last saw you! You've grown so much!"
"Oh, Uncle Vyle!" Ioris giggled. "It hasn't been THAT long!"
At that exact moment, Dimitri decided that Vyle had finally snapped and started talking to himself, switching between his normal voice and a girly voice. He grabbed the bat and walked into the living room.
"Sveet mozher of vow!" exclaimed Dimitri as he laid his eyes upon Ioris, dropping the bat. He walked up to Iolis stiffly, like a robot. He extended his hand, shaking.
"H...hello! My name eeees-" before he could finish the sentence, Ioris delivered a firm kick to his previously hardened nether regions. Dimitri squeaked and fell to the ground, grasping his crotch.
"Nice," said Vyle, raising an eyebrow.
"So, tell me, Ioris," said Vyle, taking her by the arm and leading her to a couch.
"What brings you here?"
"Well, Uncle, I mostly came here looking for an education. This town hosts the only evil school on the planet!"
"Ah, yes," said Vyle. "Von Hitlera's School for Little Vixens. But aren't you a little too old for that school?"
"Uncle, I'm only thirteen!" Vyle's eyes widened.
"Thirteen? But...but your...but the..." Ioris wore a look of confusion. Vyle looked around for something. He brightened and grabbed two pillows. He held them in front of his chest. "Oh!" said Ioris. "Plastic surgery is wonderful today, you know." She giggled.
"Wait, you said mostly because of your education. What's the other reason?"
"Well, I overheard my parents discussing that same thing. I heard 'hellion' and 'demonic,' but I'm not sure what those words mean!" Vyle opened his mouth, as if to say something important, but all that escaped was a barely audible "Ah." He shut his mouth and tried again.
"You'll fit in just fine here!" That wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it would do. A squeaky voice came from the living room floor. It was Dimitri's, who was still recovering from the blow to the ouchie parts.
"You're in luck! Von Hitlera's is enrolling new students next week!" Vyle looked over the couch at Dimitri.
"And how, exactly, do you know that?" Dimitri sighed. He thought now would be the best time to run away very fast, but all he managed to do was crawl along the floor at a moderate pace. Vyle turned to Ioris with a smile.
"Well, Ioris, welcome to the gang!" She giggled and hugged Vyle.
"Thanks, Uncle!"
